THE WIG HOUSE Duncan White & Varia Smirnova
They alter their modest shared apartment to accommodate a giant apparatus of hanging strips, a wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor carpet in which they will nest, safe in the wooly embrace of architecture, like fleas in the scalp of architecture. They are attracted by the promise of flexibility. They are greeted at the front door by a wilderness, into which they plunge, eyes closed, hands first, and that they tame according to their whims. Clearing void from the pervasive solid field becomes a matter of artful gathering and tying. They feel equal parts architects and hairdressers: remodeling is as simple as doing one’s hair. They are spatial stylists. At times they yearn for an open plan. They tie the field back into neat, evenly-spaced columns along the wall and enjoy the salubrious effects of modern city living in their light-filled room, exposed and alone. In the 10th floor breeze, the hairy columns sway almost happily. She makes a small, intimate room with the bathtub at its center and enjoys a womb-like seclusion, a profound darkness and silence. He burrows and makes a hidden pocket big enough for a chair and a lamp. They are cave dwellers, 99 feet above the sidewalk. The shag has a pleasing appearance and comfortable texture, like velvet. Bundled, the strands approximate a vaulted ceiling. At times they swear their apartment feels medieval, luxurious. They entertain. In preparation, they untie the
strands in the far side of the space. The mass unfurls over their bed, over their strewn clothes, digesting evidence of their private lives. When the guests arrive, only a dining room remains. At dinner, someone mentions their dog. They don’t know, don’t recall seeing him in hours. He’s lost somewhere in their tiny apartment, they’ll search for him in the morning. “The Wig” (her word for it) is their laboratory. Styling it is a game that they quickly master. They wear the wig according to their moods, but also it holds sway over their moods. Before long, they grow mindful of this fact, and become attuned to delicate patterns of emotional feedback as they calibrate the voids in which they live. It seems that a square living room cleared too generously makes for a scattered conversation, polite excuses, an early night. A looming solid can provoke violent disagreement. Waking up facing a bulge seems to portend mental clarity for the rest of the day. They keep a journal, recording observations about themselves beside accurate plan sketches. Flipping the pages, shaded solids swell and shrink, migrate and dance alongside text descriptions of moments in their lives. They chart ups and downs (emotional) vs. solid and void (wig). After the first month, they have effectively “remodeled” their nest one hundred times. By the end of the first year, nearly two thousand. Eventually, they get it just so. They live in harmony.
Exploded Plan Oblique: Field of Hanging Strips, Open Plan Apartment, Storage & Support Bar
Wednesday July 31st: Just a Few Configurations of the Wig
August 3rd, 2:15 PM
March 8, 8:00 AM
October 31, 9:05 PM
January 16, 2:45 AM